Fine {DoTae} | complete

Fifteen

"I just need to take this makeup off," Taeyong says. He paces the room, then sits down at the dresser and rummages through the scattering of supplies, cursing under his breath. "Or should I keep it on? I've got an interview after, too. They want to hear about the concert. I need to watch the time. Can you watch the time for me?"

Taeyong's voice is hoarse, the effects of the concert setting in as he bounces his knee and stares at a particular tube of face cream. Doyoung sits on the bed. The pillows are full and soft, and he leans back into them and lets them hug his back. If he were to close his eyes he'd be asleep in seconds. But he has to stay awake for Taeyong, to speak to Jungwoo.

"You can take it off. The fans like your bare face," Doyoung says. The skin on his own face tingles with paranoia.

The room is quiet while Taeyong goes through his skincare routine. Doyoung clips the corner of his phone case on and off, thinking about what he'll say to Jungwoo and what he'll do while Taeyong is live. He doesn't have anything to do, and the sudden change from a concert to a hotel room where the only sound is the clip of the face cream lid makes it hard to focus on anything, his head still buzzing while his body just wants to rest. His eyelids feel heavy and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Taeyong stands up and uses a simple black hairband to keep his bangs out of his eyes, mutters something about needing to sort the roots out, then finds the small tripod in his suitcase so he can prop his phone up, plugging the device in after.

"Would you rather sit here?" Doyoung asks.

"I'm alright," Taeyong says. He fiddles on his phone for a bit and Doyoung can see he's just scrolling through his Instagram feed, liking a photo from another SM artist's comeback as if putting off doing the live.

Doyoung always finds it fascinating to watch. Taeyong zips the suitcase back up, practising his smile while he fetches a pack of dried mango to snack on.

"I need the energy," he says. Doyoung doesn't comment on the slight hobble in his steps, nor on the sigh he lets out once he's sat back down. "Can you do the lights, please?"

Doyoung turns off the main lights and switches on the lamps by the bed and the light above the dresser mirror, and Taeyong thanks him sweetly. The room looks different when submerged in the gentle orange. Doyoung pulls the curtains, rubbing the material between his fingers to decide if he likes it or not. It's a bit on the rougher side, makes his teeth twinge. Through the window the city looks like a painting, or a shot from a high-budget movie that depicts reality as a false promise of happiness and love. The lights of the buildings come to a sudden stop in the distance, and he wonders if the glistening is the sea stretching out for miles. Billboards advertise expensive products in the city square and people still roam the streets. The moon is hidden behind thick clouds that glow a few shades of grey lighter than the others. Besides that, the sky is endless darkness, like an ominous threat the people below are oblivious to.

Doyoung wonders if the fans have all got home okay, how many of them are still on the way home, or to their hotel; he knows many would have even flown in from other states and even other countries to see their favourite idol. He would have done the same if he had the money and the chance.

Returning to the bed, Doyoung plumps up the pillows. Despite not appreciating change so much, he decides the room at least feels cosy. He can draw the curtains, ignore everything going on outside, and simply exist in this warm space with Taeyong. The fridge taunts him in the corner, the glass a window into all the possibilities of giving into the urge for the satisfaction of eating and eating until he can't eat anymore.

He grabs a bottle of water, but his stomach twists when he takes a sip because he's hungry.

"Can I order food before you start?" Doyoung asks. He didn't mean to sound so cautious, but he's afraid it'll upset Taeyong or disturb his live.